Sleep to Dream
by kidneythieves
Summary: Eames begins a merry chase of his own for the formidable point-man. Takes place after Inception job. Slash, sexually graphic.
1. Ch 1: Attraction

**Sleep to Dream**

**Chapter 1: Attraction**

Arthur held tightly to his luggage.

Anxiousness and panic lingered in his brain. He had done a good job, re reassured himself, knuckle gripping his silver briefcase. He did what had been planned out, processed and carefully reviewed from the past several days. Yet even as the invincible point man on the team, when it was time to perform, he always felt that sudden rush of panic. He believed it stemmed not from his lack of abilities to perform well, but the chaos that he was so often thrown into by the dream world, which made his assignments much more difficult to control.

A yellow four-door taxi rolled up to the side of the curb where he stood waiting. The driver popped the trunk in which Arthur carefully placed his invaluable bag himself, before entering the side of the vehicle.

A sense of calm immediately washed over him. The bustling LAX airport vanished- all with the simple movement of a shutting door.

"Downtown, please," He instructed the taxi driver.

Before the anonymous cab driver could accelerate, LAX airport came swarming back inside the taxi as the opposite door opened and a large, yet graceful man took a seat besides Arthur and closed the door.

Arthur instantly recognized the man. "Eames," he stated coolly, glaring at the man besides him in the backseat of his taxi.

"Arthur," he replied nonchalantly.

Arthur tried to recall the calmness he had felt moments earlier but it had been so fleeting he was beginning to wonder if he felt it at all. "What the hell are you doing?" he asked as calmly as possible, not allowing his voice to rise.

"Joining you," Eames glanced over to Arthur, "Do you mind?" he asked the question as though it were an absurd possibility that he wouldn't mind sharing a taxi with him.

His eyes narrowed, "As a matter of fact- I do…"

"Where are we going?" the taxi driver suddenly interrupted, "He's coming with us?" the heavily accented driver asked.

"Yes-," Eames said quickly, while Arthur retorted with a firm, "no!"

The driver hesitated, growing frustrated by the minute as the two of them decided what to do.

"Get out," Arthur ordered.

"Now, you would think after all we've been through today, you would at least share a taxi with me?" Eames asked, pretending to be astounded by him, yet knew perfectly well that Arthur didn't like him.

Arthur's dark eyes narrowed on the older, handsome British man, "How much do you want to get out of my cab?"

Arthur knew he was pushing him, Eames was always a stickler about money and pride would make him choke on it. Instead Eames's soft, full lips titled into an odd smile, his light eyes grew heavy lidded as he gazed over at Arthur, "I have a few ideas." His voice was rough yet confident, telling Arthur that Eames didn't want money- he wanted something else entirely different.

"We go- downtown!" the driver said out loud, deciding on his own to leave the airport with both men in the back of his car.

Arthur let out a frustrated sigh, ignoring the shiver of sudden anticipation. He wasn't sure why he felt this, only that Eames had always been able to put him on edge. And Arthur never was pushed to the edge, not without a paradox at least. Now Eames had intruded into his life once again and Arthur would've given anything to shove him right back out.

Except when Eames's heated eyes stared him down, Arthur wanted nothing more than to let that fire and heat burn right through him.

"Thanks," Eames mumbled, "I knew you wouldn't mind."

Arthur's eyebrow rose in disbelief but he said nothing.

"Really, Arthur- you need to be less of a stick in the mud." Eames's eyes lingered over Arthur's form, lingering on his crotch, before slowly making his way up over the suit vest and to his lips. "You'd be much more fun."

Arthur suddenly doubted himself. It didn't help that Eames now stared at him as though he wanted to eat him up… or suck him off, Arthur thought. Suddenly the anticipation traveled straight through him and into his stomach. His fists curled tightly, resisting the reaction in his randy cock. God, suck him off? He wandered. The idea of Eames, the charming, talented dream forger, on his knees, bent over and taking Arthur's erected dick into his mouth, tonguing him and sucking…

Eames turned back to the window- finally removing his harassing gaze from Arthur's now overheated body.  
>He suddenly couldn't breathe or acknowledge Eames's existence. He focused on burying the images of Eames's mouth deep into his mind.<p>

"So where are we headed?" Eames asked casually slipping on his sunglasses.

"_I'm_ heading home," Arthur said firmly. "_You_ I'm dropping off at the first hotel or bar we come across."

"Arthur…" he drawled out disapprovingly in his thick British tongue. "I'm tired. You can't expect me to just find a hotel at random in this town? I've only been here a hand full of times, and each time I've been with a team member." He emphasized his weariness with a dramatic sigh, "All that running and jumping around in the snow was quiet exhausting."

Arthur huffed indignity at him, "my part wasn't exactly easy either, Eames. I had to figure out a kick without gravity!"

Eames stared him down, clearly excited by the challenge. "I was being chased by heavily armed men on snow mobiles. Oh don't forget the tanks and the nasty explosives planted all over the building."

"I was being chased in a rotating room." Arthur countered icily.

"I repelled down a cliff with an avalanche coming down around my ears!"

"I saved you're sweet ass from falling into limbo!"

"Sweet ass?" Eames smile became mischievous, "What else do you like about me, Arthur?"

Arthur rolled his eyes upward, "You're impossible, Eames."

"I know," he shrugged indifferently. "But I'm good in other ways…" he trailed off making the backseat of the cab suddenly feel much smaller and much tighter. It was like every sentence out of this man's mouth was laced with sensuality and… possibilities. Arthur felt his cock begin to stir and thicken between his legs.

He never understood his absurd attraction to this arrogant English bastard. Yet every time he entered the room while they worked together on this last job, Arthur's whole body went on overdrive. He loved watching Eames get into character before he did it in the dream world. The way the light displayed all the beautiful angles of his handsome features. How he carefully and meticulously had detailed records on the people he would embody in the dream. Even when Eames faked his expression enough times that they seemed to become second nature to him.

Just like Arthur had. He faked his annoyance with Eames enough to have the man believe that he disliked him. When in fact… he was damn right fascinated by the man. He loved hearing his ideas, even when they were bad. He loved his overzealous confidence that seemed to just radiate from his very skin.

His skin… Arthur resisted the urge to glance over at the formidable man besides him. Eames might look large underneath those suit jackets but in fact Eames was very muscular. His muscles were toned and tight. He had the physique of a body-builder. He envied that about Eames. Arthur's own natural physical form was built for speed and agility. He could climb, jump, run and hit any target, even in a rotating room. However he didn't often overpower anyone. He simply didn't have the build for it or the strength in his muscles to last long. Unlike Eames.

Arthur wondered what it would be like to have those hard, rough hands pressing down on his chest, holding him to the bed while he jerked him off…

Suddenly he felt one of those hands caress up the side of his leg. "Darling, you're phone's vibrating." He whispered huskily to him, his hand drifting ever so close to his now aching crotch. Eames eyes ducked away before Arthur could see if he had noticed the bulge in his pants. His outside thigh burned with the sensation of Eames's hand.

Fumbling for his phone, Arthur touched the screen. It was a text message from Cobb: "Good job, today. And thank you for trusting me."

Arthur felt a small smile tease the corner of his mouth. Then Cobb sent him another text: "Tell Eames's job well done too."

With that last message, Arthur clicked off his phone and slid it back in his pocket, suddenly annoyed.

"So what is your flat like? Is it meticulously clean and well organized?" He asked without a hint of laughter in his voice. He knew Arthur too well after the time they spent together. "Does it have artwork of boxes and boring perfectly chimerical things?"

"Something like that," he grumbled, still peeved about the text from Cobb. Did everyone know that him and Eames were together? Together… Arthur almost snorted out loud at the thought. Eames was only sharing a taxi ride with him, nothing more. They weren't fuck buddies nor in a relationship. Eames was too much of a man-whore anyway, and the concept of settling down with someone would probably just make the forger laugh.

And he would laugh in Arthur's face if he asked Eames to ever consider one with him. But is that what Arthur really wanted? A relationship with the man who drove him insane with want and suppressed sexual need, but also just insane?

"Except you'll never know what my place looks like," Arthur replied firmly. "You can get off where ever you want, just not at my house."

Eames sighed again, this time it was real. "Arthur, don't make me beg." The sudden desperation in his voice, made his head turn. When their eyes locked, Eames smiled weakly, "I just need some time to rest. A couple hours in a safe place will do me wonders. I'll sleep on your couch if that's what it'll take. I won't be a bother, I swear."

"A few hours, then you're gone?" Arthur asked, feeling himself being drawn down a hole he couldn't get out of. But it was Eames… a man who he trusted with his life, but would never tell him. "All right," he said finally. "Afterwards- you find somewhere else to stay until you fly back to… wherever."

Eames sent him a relieved smile, "Thank you. I know it must be hard to put up with the likes of me."

"Yeah, especially since I thought I wouldn't have to see you again for at least another 6 months."

"Really? Has it been that long since we worked a job together?"

Arthur nodded, "Aside from the one we just finished, yeah- six months."

"My, my… time does fly when you're in the dream world, doesn't it?"

Arthur glanced out of the corner of his eye to see Eames staring out the window, the sun beating down on his beautifully sculpted face.

**_TBC_**


	2. Ch 2: Temptation

**Chapter 2: Temptation**

"Do as you're told," Eames said with a hint of authority.

Arthur glared at him, "This is my house, you know. I can kick you out whenever I want."

"I'd like to see you try, big boy." He challenged with an amused smile dancing on his lips.

Arthur shook his head as he turned on his heel and back into the kitchen to get the bottle of wine Eames requested. Eames admired the shapely point-man's butt as he walked away. He had quite a slimming, almost innocent appearance. Eames knew perfectly well that appearance can be deceiving. Arthur was graceful and cunning. His body was toned from head to toe and though he might not physically overpower himself, Arthur could at least run for miles on those incredibly toned legs of his.

Eames quickly turned his gaze away, not wanting to be caught staring no matter how appreciatively. He returned his eyes to the vibrant, colorful piece of art hanging on the wall in Arthur's spacious condo. The artwork was a stark contrast to its surroundings. It was bright, bold, beautiful and absolutely unafraid in its randomness of color and life.

Yet in this condo, Eames thought dully, it was just out of place. The condo was boring and cold. It reminded him of Arthur in a way. It had oversized windows overlooking the city sprawl of LA from a hill top, with stark white walls and expensive gadgets littering the place. This would be the type of design a businessman would love, especially one who was too busy with life to decorate.

"You like my painting?" Arthur asked from his sheik kitchen, twisting the cork out of the bottle.

Eames lifted a brow and shrugged, "Is it really yours?"

Arthur laughed lightly, "Of course it's mine. What- do you think I stole?"

"Stealing is beneath you- aside from dreams, that is." Eames explained, still analyzing the painting and wondering what motivation someone like Arthur to buy it. "Who bought it for you then?"

Arthur let out am exaggerated sigh, "I did. So stop giving me hell about it."

"Really?" Eames spun on his boot to face the point-man. "You bought this?" He smiled coyly, "don't tease me Arthur. You don't have a colorful bone in your body- least of all put it on display for the whole world to see."

Arthur's hand hesitated on the cork screw, his dark eyes moving over the contours of the painting then back to him. He titled his head as though making a realization. "Not the whole world, Eames. Just you."

Eames stilled, though his heart raced excitedly. He smiled suspiciously at the handsome young man, "Whatever do you mean by that, darling?"

"I've never had anyone over before. You'd be the first." Arthur finally uncorked the bottle and retrieved two glasses for the wine. Of course he meant it analytically, Eames thought with a snub of disappointment. Arthur didn't think about him beyond the occasional job or the usual annoyance.

"Not even Cobb?" Eames asked curiously. He couldn't help himself. He knew Cobb and Arthur were close. Though how close he wasn't entirely sure of, and the idea of them together made Eames strangely jealous. Interesting, he thought.

Arthur snorted, "Cobb has a whole other life. I'm just a business partner. We only see each other when we're on the job."

"Right," Eames mumbled beneath his breath as he accepted the wine glass from Arthur.

They sat across each other in the living room, the painting staring down at them above a posh fireplace.

"So what are your plans now, Eames? Back to Mombasa?" Arthur asked, his lips circling the rim and taking a sip of the dark liquid. Eames had a hard time pulling his gaze away.

"I haven't decided yet. Mombasa has its' perks…" He trailed off vaguely. He didn't want Arthur to know of his gambling debts in Mombasa or his pension for spending more than he had on cards, craps, dice- anything that involved gambling really. Eames simply couldn't help himself when it came to the temptation of chance. He spent so much time in the worlds of dreams that controlling the uncontrollable had become an addiction. Yet why he liked Arthur seemed impractical. Arthur was all about control. That was why he was the perfect point-man. He controlled everything and everyone.

Maybe Eames was envious of such ability, or he wanted to be the one to show Arthur that the uncontrollable was just as fun and exciting. Honestly, he didn't know. Only that he was absurdly attracted to the pretentious, uptight young man.

"What about you, darling? Are you here to stay for a while? Or off on another big adventure?" He asked candidly, trying to pull his mind away from his own distractions.

Arthur sipped more on his wine, letting himself open up. "I've had a few offers." He paused, his warm brown eyes darkening. "I didn't know the outcome of this last job. And guaranteeing my services before this one had finished seemed premature."

Eames narrowed his eyes above the rim of the glass.

"But I suppose I will take something soon. Cobb is done, at least for now while he spends some time with his family. I need to find something to occupy my time." Arthur explained as his lean body relaxing into the soft couch.

"Don't you ever take time off?" Eames asked, his eyes surveying the point-man's perfect form.

Arthur hesitated, and then answered with sincerity, "No."

"A shame, darling. One should take a break once and awhile. I'm sure our profession has a high burn-out rate." Eames said teasingly.

"More like mortality-rate," Arthur countered.

Eames laughed heartily, "That too."

They stared at each other, silence descending on their conversation as they sipped their wine. Eames relished in moments like these. It is usually when a person's quirky personality comes out the most, with awkward silences or long lulls in conversation. Yet, Arthur seemed content with sitting in silence, their steady gazes unwavering.

Arthur relaxed deeper in the couch, letting his leg sprawl out before him, while tucking the other one into the couch. Eames read his body language and his pulse skipped a beat. Arthur's eyes became heavy with the heat of the moment or the wine, Eames couldn't tell. Except the spike in sexual tension electrified the air between them from the intimacy of the couch.

Eames inhaled, his heartbeat accelerating. It had been a long time since he had shared the joys of a bedroom. Now, he was beginning to wonder if Arthur was thinking the same thing. Yet how could he? Arthur never seemed attracted to him before. Besides whenever Eames hinted at it, Arthur ignored it like he did in the taxi or shot back with annoyed anger.

"Do you have a girlfriend, my dear?" Eames asked in a husky tone. He wanted to gage Arthur's reaction to him now. For some reason he felt as though something had changed in Arthur. Was he finally succumbing to their mutual attraction? Or was Arthur teasing _him_ now?

Arthur set his wine down on the glass table, back straightening against the side of the couch. "No," he replied smoothly. "You?" Eames recognized the challenge, yet he also saw the genuine interest.

Eames also set his glass down slowly, "Not at the moment. I've never been particular for women, if you know what I mean."

He watched Arthur gulp in obvious discomfort from his smoldering gaze. Eames's arousal sharpened suddenly. Arthur had never been with a man before. Yet he was attracted to him, Eames saw it clear as day in those disturbingly dark eyes. The sexuality between them was undeniable at this point. Eames reeled in wonderment. He had no idea Arthur had been attracted to him. The point-man had held onto his façade against him for so long, Eames had believed Arthur truly disliked him.

Eames had the uncanny ability to read people and staring Arthur down now, he saw the flash of hungry desire cross that attractive face.

Abruptly, Arthur shot up from the couch, their intimate moment vanishing. Eames glanced over the shoulder of the couch and saw Arthur pull out his cell phone. He hadn't even heard the cell phone, which now rung from Arthur's jacket in the kitchen.

He took a deep breath, realizing then that he was being lured into the mysterious depths of Arthur. The point man might not see it, but Eames did. They both lusted for one another. Yet the minute the acknowledged it… Eames took another deep breath and rubbed a quick hand over his face. They would consume each other until there was nothing left. He felt it to his bones. And currently, his groin. Eames stood, needing to feel less vulnerable.

Arthur had his back turned, swiftly talking on the phone. A minute later the point-man hung up.

"Well…?" Eames asked curiously, trying to act nonchalant.

"The job I had been considering just fell through. I leave tomorrow." Arthur said sounding slightly disappointed.

"Cheer up, darling. Another job is good right? You said it yourself. No rest for the wicked," Eames said overly bright.

Arthur shot him a hard look, his dark eyes stormy. "Right- whatever you say." He cleared his throat and straightened his tie. "I think I should get some sleep. It's going to be a long flight tomorrow."

"Sure, darling."

Arthur was about to leave when he turned sharply back around. "I would appreciate it if you stopped calling me that, Eames."

Eames smiled innocently, "What? _Darling_?" When Arthur's gaze narrowed darkly, Eames had to bite the side of his cheek to resist the urge to laugh, "You're serious?"

Arthur nodded, "Just don't call me that again."

"Whatever you say, sweetheart," Eames mocked, enjoying the way Arthur seemed to react so irritably to the simple endearment.

Arthur suddenly moved towards him with easy grace and speed. Eames stepped back instinctively though came up short when the back of his legs knocked up against the couch. Arthur stood a few inches taller, glaring intensely down at him, lips pursed in anger.

"Sorry, I couldn't help it," Eames teased with a coy smile. "You're just so easy to irritate, Arthur."

"I asked you stop. Don't you respect me enough to at least do as I ask from you?" Arthur snapped.

"So what exactly do you want from me, Arthur? Specificity, right?" Eames countered, amusement draining away.

Arthur opened his mouth to retort, except he hesitated, uncertain of what to say. In that moment, Eames knew exactly what he wanted. He didn't need time to explain it either. On impulse, Eames reached out abruptly and snaked his calloused hand around Arthur's neck and pulled him down for a rough, scorching kiss. Instantly Eames was hit with the blood boiling heat of the kiss. The simple mating of lips sent his heart on overdrive and his whole body thrumming with need.

But it wasn't just any lips that made him react this way. It was Arthur's. He had wanted to taste him for some time now. So he attacked him with the same greediness as a starved man gone too long without supplement. He devoured him fully, forcing Arthur's mouth open wider for his tongue to spear inside. He tasted of sweet wine and deliciously male. Eames purred excitedly from the back of his throat.

Arthur tried to pull away then, but Eames wouldn't have it. He roughly grabbed the side of his face and by using his body, pinned Arthur against the hard wall. Arthur bit his lower lip in retaliation. Eames hissed in pain, breaking away from their kiss.

Eames held him against the wall, his arms engulfing the point-man, trapping him completely.

"That hurt, darling," Eames thumbed his lower lip.

Arthur's jaw muscle twitched angrily, "Good."

Eames chuckled, licking his lower lip, watching Arthur's gaze move over his lips. He saw the flash of arousal then. He knew Arthur wanted more. And so did he.

Eames smiled lazily, "Shall we continue?"

He didn't wait for Arthur's response when he saw the momentary flash of pure desire on the point-man's face. Eames took the opportunity to pounce. He pushed him against the wall harder, using his muscular body to ensnare him more. Eames waited though. He wanted to see if Arthur would allow him the kiss this time. Arthur gazed down at him, their breath mingling together. The aching pressure in Eames groin was starting to become unbearable.

Slowly, he rotated his hips forward into the tense point-man. Arthur's dark eyes clashed with his own now. Eames watched in delight as Arthur parted his lips in utter arousal as he started to rub his throbbing cock into his body. Arthur swallowed, jaw clenching as he started to slowly succumb to the sexuality that pulsed between them. Watching Arthur give in to him, made Eames harder than a rock. He pushed harder into him, insistent and demanding now. Arthur began panting, mouth open, head titling back.

Eames felt the point-man's erection bulge in his slacks. Fire, pure white-hot fire seemed to scorch Eames's entire body. Unable to control himself, he pushed harder and harder, dry-humping Arthur against the wall like some dog in heat. Arthur let out a pained groan as he whipped his head back to Eames and captured his lips. Eames gasped in shock against his lips. Surprised that Arthur wanted this too. After so long of not knowing and of wanting something unattainable, Eames lost all control.

Arthur's mouth was as fiery as the passion that rocked them. He hungrily devoured him, their lips clashing with a furious desire. Eames's hold on him slackened, his hips pumping forward continuously as Arthur returned each thrust with his own. His cock throbbed as he tensed his leg muscles, resisting the urge to burst in his pants. Oh God, he couldn't dream up a hotter moment with the point-man. And he'd fantasized a few times about this man, gasping in ecstasy as he pounded into him ruthlessly.

Frantic and breathless, Eames stumbled backwards. Arthur began undressing him, his fingers quickly and expertly unbuttoning them while they continued to kiss. Eames groaned agonizingly when he had to pull away from their frenzied kissing to undress. Finally after a few hurried seconds of disrobing, they were naked. Arthur didn't stop to analyze the situation or what they were about to do, he simply moved. Eames let him attack him, his towering erection brushing intimately against Arthur's as they engulfed each other in another torrid kiss. Arthur's hands digging through his hair, scrapping his scalp to the back of his head, demandingly taking his mouth.

Eames reached between them and with a sure, confident hand grabbed the point-man's solid erection. Arthur shivered beneath his hands. Eames reeled back in surprise. He instantly slowed down their hurried movements and gently stroked his cock. Arthur pulled away from his mouth, whimpering, his eyes firmly shut as his hips moved forward into the motion of Eames pulling.

A bead of precum wet the tip of Eames cock. Watching Arthur in the throes of blinding pleasure was almost enough to make him cum. He pulled Arthur's face down into the crook of his neck, hand sliding up and down the length of his shaft. Arthur moaned breathlessly into his neck.

"You're trembling, dear." Eames whispered against the shell of his ear.

"I can't help it…" Arthur replied panting.

Eames stroked him harder. Loving the way Arthur gasped into his body and writhed in his palm. Enough was enough, Eames thought as he led them over their disregarded clothes and had them tumbling on the plush couch. Arthur followed easily, letting Eames take control.

"I've never done this with a man," Arthur rasped out, straddling Eames on the couch.

Eames smiled wantonly, "Good, I get to be your first then."

Arthur arched his eyebrow defiantly down at him. Eames took the opportunity to pump his cock upwards, brushing into Arthur's virgin crevasse. Arthur gasped, his hand blindingly reaching out to grip Eames's chest, his fingers digging into his flesh. The tension surrounding his cock was becoming insufferable now as Eames panted heavily beneath Arthur, letting the point-man ride on top of him ruthlessly. Arthur's face was drawn back in pure rapture. Eames couldn't stand it much longer, he needed to be inside him. He needed to fuck him senselessly.

He slid his hand beneath him and with expert skill and knowledge, Eames guided himself into Arthur. He instantly drove upwards. Arthur gasped in mingled pain and surprise as he stilled his movements.

"Hold on, darling… it'll pass." Eames gruffed out while rotating himself upwards, thrusting and grinding into the sweet tightness of the point-man. Arthur's dark eyes widened suddenly, his cock quivering with excitement.

"Oh God," Arthur breathed as his whole body shuddered in ecstasy. He suddenly bucked wildly on top of Eames, pushing himself down over and over onto his cock. Eames gripped his hips, digging his fingers into his flesh, willing himself not to burst- not yet. Arthur rode him like a stallion, his own cock grinding into his stomach.

Eames sat up, on the verge of climax. He wrapped Arthur's legs around him, thrusting himself so far into him, Eames thought he might shatter. He wrapped his strong arms around his slender body, gripping him to his chest as he slammed into him. Arthur trembled between them as the explosion finally came. His cry of release mingled with Arthur's. The point-man's warmth gushed between them as Eames kept driving into him while he came. It was absolutely glorious. Eames felt slightly in shock from their momentary lapse in judgment, which ended up with them having mind-altering sex.

Still trying to catch his breath, Eames clutched Arthur close to him. Arthur's hand moved through Eames's hair then trailed down his muscled back to his shapely ass. Eames purred delightfully into the crook of Arthur's neck. Instead of untangling himself from Eames, Arthur pushed down one last time on his cock, while gripping his ass.

"Aw fuck, darling…" Eames groaned as his cock miraculously twitched to life. "Are you trying to kill me?"

"I didn't know I could kill you with sex," Arthur commented. Eames felt his lips press against his shoulder, then tongue and suck his flesh.

Eames sighed, "Yes… you can. It's a weakness I dare not share with others."

Arthur laughed, stole a swift kiss from the side of Eames's chiseled cheek and stood. Eames fell back into the couch, stretched out gloriously naked while he watched Arthur pick up his discarded clothes. The intimacy they shared just then seemed too fleeting for his liking. He finally had his moment with Arthur and just like that, it was gone. Strange, Eames thought, his eyes glued to Arthur's finely toned back, he still wanted him. Eames normally enjoyed the occasional quickie and moved on. Except this time it felt different. Arthur was more than a quick screw.

"Off to bed, darling?" Eames asked lightly, resting his hand under his head. Wondering how he could hint at joining him in bed.

Arthur picked up Eames's clothes and laid them neatly on the lounge chair. "I do have an early flight to Prague." He stated.

A pang of disappointment shot through Eames. Arthur was done with him. Just like that. They had their excitement, now off to bed, he thought bitterly. "Well, it was fun." He commented drily, not wanting Arthur to know how rejected he felt.

Arthur finally turned to look at him, his expression perplexed. "Fun?"

Eames smiled thinly. "Don't mind me, darling. You need your beauty sleep, I understand."

Arthur suddenly stiffened as if Eames had sucker punched him. He glowered at him angrily. Finally after a tense minute, Arthur shifted away and headed upstairs. "I expect you to be gone when I get up, Eames."

Anger speared through his gut. Arthur had just walked away, as if what transpired between them meant nothing. "And what time would that be, darling?" he yelled back tauntingly as Arthur ascended the staircase.

"Early," he shot back coldly and with a hard door slam, he was gone.

Eames sat up, realizing then that he was too emotional to sleep. He quickly dressed, shoving his legs through his pants and snapping his belt on fiercely. Damnit, why did he have to be so bloody upset about all this? Why couldn't he just accept the obvious? Arthur just wanted a quick fuck and Eames provided it. Arthur didn't believe in emotional attachment and Eames should've known better. He was too cold and calculating to have someone like Eames stomping around in his life.

Eames's fingers stilled on the button of his shirt at the thought. Did he really want to be a part of Arthur's life? Or had their night of unforgettable, passionately hot sex just gone straight to his head? He knew himself well enough to know he couldn't figure this out while emotionally compromised. He needed time to sort out his mixed feelings regarding the formidable puzzle that entailed Arthur.

A few minutes later, fully dressed and recovered, Eames strode to the door. He glanced one last time over his shoulder at the remarkable painting. He vaguely wondered if this painting represented Arthur more than his condo did. So passionate and full of life. He stifled the urge to sigh as he tucked his sunglasses inside his jacket pocket, snagged his suitcase and left.

**_TBC_**


	3. Ch 3: The Job

**Chapter 3: The Job**

_"Time really does fly when you're in the dream world, doesn't it?" _Arthur heard Eames voice drift through his mind. Yes it did, Arthur thought miserably, crushing the points of his fingers into his eyes, rubbing away the remaining sleep that lingered in his brain. He felt utterly exhausted. The job he had taken three months ago was beginning to grind away his last shred of tolerance.

He fumbled with his hotel key card.

The team he got stuck with were novices at best. They had the same skill-set of bumbling kids trying to crack open a cookie jar. Except Arthur had the feeling that actual kids had a better shot at this cookie jar than the team.

Arthur had been pulling double duty too. Taking over positions of fellow team-members who couldn't pull their weight. If it were up to Arthur, he would have sent them packing ages ago. But he wasn't the leader. Just the point man. The organizer- the resilient and reliable one.

The team was led by some hot-shot thief from New York named Nick Holden. His only skills were conning and stealing, other than that, Holden was no good in the dream world. He lacked leadership and imagination. Arthur had never truly realized how crucial those elements were in devising a plan to steal something from one's subconscious mind, now he only wished he possessed those qualities. So he was stuck with the wonder-team from hell and his job was keeping it organized enough to pop this cookie jar without shattering it all over the table.

He should've said no, he thought dully, as he ran a careless hand through his thick, slicked black hair. Arthur slid the cardkey through the lock and it beeped him inside.

He sighed, realizing then should've said no that night at his condo, with Eames only feet away from him. He should've stayed. Arthur shook his head in disgust at the thought. Eames wouldn't have stayed with him. They both knew what they were getting into that night they screwed.

No attachments, no emotions. Just pleasure. One night. Final.

Except Arthur hadn't walked away as unshaken as he had hoped.

It had been three long months since he last saw Mr. Eames yet his taunting smile and husky purr followed him everywhere. Especially now when all he wanted to do was work with real God damn professionals.

He shook his head, trying to push thoughts of Eames aside. He walked past the mirror on the vanity as he headed to the closet. He stilled when his reflection shot back at him. Turning on his heel, he stood in front of the mirror and let out a long winded sigh. He looked like shit. His suit was rumpled, his hair was a disaster, and dark ugly bags hung under his weary eyes.

Arthur grimaced. How did he let it get this far? He made a quick attempt at flattening and re-shaping his hair. He pulled the lapels down of his suit and sleeves, hoping to ease some of the wrinkles that had bunched up. Arthur didn't bother with the bags under his eyes. It would've been pointless trying to fix that.

Suddenly Arthur had an epiphany. He didn't need this. He didn't need this job at all. It was working him down the very bone, exhausting him to the point of no return. He had money saved and didn't have to stick around for a job he was clearly not getting the better end of. He gritted his teeth determinedly and pulled out his suitcase. Enough was enough. Time to go home, he thought with finality. He wanted to go home.

After several minutes of quick packing, he finished. Arthur cleared his throat and pursed his lips at his reflection. He would have killed for an extra few hours of rest. Maybe stay one more night in his hotel room. No, he interrupted his own thought. He couldn't stay another night. He had to go before he second guessed his decision.

Arthur heard Eames husky drawl in his mind, 'there is no rest for the wicked, darling…'

Minutes later, the point-man strolled through the lobby, bag in hand and his passport in his pocket. By this time tomorrow he would be back in the states. He would be back at home and sleep until he was fully restored to his normal self.

Eames fluttered through his mind in that moment. Arthur pushed it aside. Eames wouldn't want to see him. Whatever relationship that had, finished the night Eames walked out on him. Sure Arthur might have said a few harsh words to entice his leaving but still, they weren't meant to be together. Eames was too smug and bull-headed. Arthur was too ridge and smart to let a man like him into his life.

The hotel doors opened into the night air of Prague. He inhaled sharply, letting the cold icy air fill his lungs. It was freezing but all Arthur could feel was a sense of freedom.

Time to finally go home, he thought happily.

* * *

><p>Eames's gaze traveled to a rather attractive young man at the end of the bar. He smiled lightly when the young man's eyes finally reached him. Eames's winked. The young man smiled abashedly at first, then returned the smile. Gotcha, Eames thought arrogantly.<p>

He needed a night of debauchery and sinfully hot sex that would make nuns weep. Anything to get his mind off the fact that he was still without a forging job, running low on funds, in debt up to his ears and longing for someone who wanted nothing to do with him. Arthur.

The point-man had irritated his thoughts constantly since their torridly hot night of passion that ended up making Eames cum magnificently and want to do it again and again and again. Problem was, it was only with Arthur he wanted to do the nasty with since that night. However, Arthur had shot him down without so much as a blink. The cold, calculating point-man left him in the dust the second he left his embrace that night.

Eames sighed in his drink, wondering what possessed Arthur to let down his defenses for him that night. Eames knew he was a handsome, tempting devil and that anyone would be hard to resist his natural charm and charisma, yet it never seemed to affect Arthur before. So that night when Arthur let his guard down, Eames pounced. And Arthur let himself get caught. Key word- let.

Arthur never did anything without over analyzing it or dissecting it. He knew what he was doing. He was letting Eames have his romp in the sack. They were responsible adults after all. Just sex. Except Eames had the unexpected craving for more after the point-man walked away. He wanted more than just mind-blowing sex. He wanted him. He wanted the stick-in-the-mud, frigid, over analytical Arthur, more than he wanted anything else.

"Are you Mr. Eames?" asked a sultry female voice from besides him. He glanced over his shoulder and saw a beautiful brunette with long curly hair and dark alluring eyes.

"Maybe. Who's asking?"

"My name is Justine Marks," she said smoothly. He sensed a confidence in her that rivaled himself. He liked that. But it also made him cautious.

"What can I do for you Miss Marks?" he asked passively taking a sip of his cocktail.

"I heard you're quite the forger."

He smiled sheepishly, "Aw, who told you that?" he pretended to be bashful and even flattered. But he wasn't. He was suspicious of anyone he didn't know. And who wanted him for a job.

"A friend- goes by the name Nick Holden. Have you heard of him?"

"Yes," Eames responded. He had heard through the grapevine that Holden had been working fast and loose with some of his clients but ultimately got the job done.

"Well, Holden's heard of you. We're interested in what services you can provide." She slipped a card on the counter towards him and leaned forward into his shoulder, brushing her ample bosom into his arm. "If you're interested, call me."

Eames watched as she slid provocatively off the barstool in her mini black dress. Her heels clacked against the floor as she strode out of the bar, hips swaying. Eames glanced down at the card. Justine Marks. He liked this woman. He flicked the card between his fingers, thinking. He needed the money and was stuck in the states. He wanted to go home, where ever that may be and this could possibly be his ticket out.

He smiled and absently glanced over to where the man he had been eye-flirting with earlier. The man had left. He missed his chance. Pity, he thought as he polished off his drink, paid and left. Though, who was he kidding, Eames didn't want that man. He wanted Arthur.

He hailed a taxi. Maybe taking this job would take his mind off the point-man. Well at least for the time being.

* * *

><p>…<em><strong>one week later…<strong>_

Arthur stretched out on his couch with an open book. He had decided to take some time for himself when he got back from Prague. Something he rarely did, if ever. He read mostly or found other things to keep him busy. Working out endlessly, running a few miles a day or cooking. He was slightly bored but had to admit, he enjoyed having free-time especially since he came from a profession when someone's free time could be snatched away forever with a bullet.

Suddenly his phone rang, startling him out of his book. He sat up and reached for the phone. The number was secure. He answered, "Hello?"

"Arthur, thank God," said an all too familiar female voice on the other end.

"Marks? What do you want?" Arthur had severed all attachments with them when he left a week ago. Holden had called a few times but once Arthur explained he didn't want anything to do with the job or him, he stopped calling.

The woman took a breath over the phone, "We're in some trouble… we need your help."

Arthur felt his muscles tighten, "No. I told Holden I was through with this job. You're going to have to find someone else."

"I know- I'm sorry, Arthur. I wouldn't be calling if we weren't desperate." Her voice sounded frantic. Unlike the woman he had come to know. Justine Marks had been the only professional in the whole team that actually knew what she was doing. She was intelligent and had a vivid imagination. But she chose to partner herself to a man like Holden so that was a strike against her in Arthur's opinion.

"You are familiar with the job still," she continued hurriedly. "The subconscious security- we ran into a problem trying to by past them."

Arthur's jaw flexed but he said nothing.

"Holden's been taken. We sent in someone else to retrieve him but he hasn't come out either…"

"Why didn't Holden just shoot himself- get out of the dream?" Arthur asked suspiciously.

Marks paused for a long moment before whispering into the receiver, "they are three levels down, Arthur."

Jesus, Arthur thought horrified. Pushing the boundaries of the dream world was risky. It was proved to him on his last job with Cobb. Cobb barely made it out after falling into limbo. If Holden was killed in the third stage of the dream he would drop into limbo. Unused space of dreams. No one knew how long a person could survive down there. Months, years, decades, centuries…

"What do you think I can do, Marks?" he asked testily.

Her voice regained its' firmness though with an underlining sense of urgency still clinged to it, "You are the most capable point-man I know. If anyone could pull someone out of this mess, it's you." She hesitated before adding, "I'll give you Holden's share."

"He won't like that very much," Arthur commented drily.

"He failed to do his job. You still haven't. So are you in or out, Arthur?"

Arthur knew it was dangerous what she was asking him. But he couldn't deny his desire to pull Holden out of the dream world. Having Nick Holden in his debt was appealing. "Are you still in Prague?"

"No- LA," Marks replied which surprised Arthur. The team was in his backyard. She gave him the location of where the team was set up. After a moment she said sincerely, "Thank you, Arthur."

Without responding, he ended their phone call and slid the phone into his pocket. Arthur wasn't doing this for her. He was doing it for himself. He would not only get Holden's share but also have him in his debt. He felt greedy but it didn't matter. He spent the past three months on this job without finishing it because of that idiot Holden couldn't pull his team together. Now Arthur would save the day, he thought with a smug smile.

He slid on his sunglasses and headed for the door with his car keys in hand

**_TBC_**


	4. Ch 4: Distraction

**Chapter 4: Distraction **

Eames stared dully at the poker chip. It was his totem. His safety net. Or security blanket as he mockingly called it when Cobb first told him to make one. Yet now, it felt foreign. He was still dreaming.

He touched the side of his forehead and let out a sharp hiss of pain through his teeth. Damnit, why did he have to be so bloody stupid and get himself cornered? Blood continued to trickle from his brow, the warmth and consistency so real that he, for a brief second, believed it was real.

He had no idea how long he'd been trapped in this forsaken dream, only that he was stuck here with no way out but to fall into limbo. And limbo to him was unknown. An abyss of sorts, where only the dead and forgotten dreams go. No way in hell was he letting his brain become scramble egg for a job. Why he ever agreed to accept this horrible job in the first place was beyond him now. All he knew that it was Holden's fault.

He glanced over to the man. He was bleeding all over the place. He had been shot in the leg by one of the subconscious security members of Mr. Andrew Haber.

Mr. Haber had a top-notch subconscious security team. It had only been once before in which Eames encountered such an illustrious team and it almost cost him a trip into limbo. Mr. Haber's projections suspected him the moment he entered into the first level. The team descended on him in seconds when he entered the third level of the dream to retrieve Holden. He stared blankly at the wall of the crumbling warehouse.

Life had a funny way of replaying itself, he awed momentarily. Eames was yet again being pursued by dangerous men and the outcome of falling head long into limbo was also substantially high, _again_.

Mr. Haber's team had driven them underground at the moment. Eames had managed to escape into a warehouse with the hysterical Holden. After Holden had been shot in the leg, he lost it. Eames ended up nearly shot because of Holden's screams. Instead the bullet grazed the side of his face as he dragged the screaming man away from the gunfire.

They were three levels down in the dream world which made the security that much tougher. So they had to be smart. They had to be one step ahead of their enemy and outthink the opponent all together because they would not win by outlasting them or stopping them.

"You know, all your hysterical crying is not doing us any good, Holden," Eames drawled out slowly as he reloaded his weapon, scrutinizing ever corner of it and committing the gun to memory. The weight, the texture, the grip…

"Fuck you, forger…" Holden spat out through tears and sweat. Sweat poured from his brow, tears leaked uncontrollably from the corner of his eyes and blood pooled beneath his leg. He was quite a sorry sight. Eames almost felt bad for the chap.

"Aw, such dramatics. And in a time like this, perfect," Eames countered patronizingly.

Holden hissed at him through clenched teeth, "When I get out of this- you're not getting one cent, you got that- you arrogant, cocky ass…"

"On the country, I was told by a rather sexy little lady that I would be receiving a rather large share from the job." He paused as though pondering, before adding airily, "I believe she said- _your_ share as a matter of fact." Holden's face paled as his eyes widened in shock.

Eames shrugged casually, "I wonder if it's because you couldn't seal the deal, Holden and she was forced to send me in after you." He tisked him disapprovingly as he continued to tinker with the weapon, not bothering to even acknowledge the bleeding, disappointing con-man on the floor. He vaguely hoped that Holden would die and drop in to limbo. It would serve him right for getting into such a fine, damn mess.

Suddenly gunfire sounded outside the building. Eames stood, cocked his gun and then without having to imagine too hard, a large semi-automatic rifle materialized a few feet away on top of a storage crate, ready for battle. He slid the berretta into his pants, and then picked up the lethal weapon with a sure confidence.

"What are you doing?" Holden asked in breathless alarm as he watched Eames head toward the warehouse doors, leaving him in a pile of sawdust and broken crates.

"I'm surviving," Eames said simply. "I suggest you do the same. Don't be afraid to dream grandly when it comes to ones weapon, eh?"

Eames sauntered away and out of sight. He noticed the large, cracked windows towards the rear of the building and moved to them, meanwhile checking the fire range and gun monverability of his new weapon. When he reached the window, he glanced outside. It was pouring. Rain pelted the cement and vacant buildings around them. He saw a projection then, materializing onto the street and headed towards the building.

Eames usually felt that coursing, feet stomping adrenaline rush then. But it didn't come. The only thing he felt was fear. If he became ensnared in a gun battle this early in the dream, he would more than likely die hear and end up in limbo. He needed time. And at this rate, he wasn't getting any.

He watched the projection's progress down the alley closely, debating if he should wait to be found or just wing it and take him out now. Rain pelted the projection's jacket as he edged closer to the building, standing across the street and seizing up the routes inside. Suddenly the projection was pulled backwards and Eames stared in shock as his neck violently twisted, his body falling loosely to the wet ground.

Arthur materialized just as suddenly, stepping over the lifeless projection, gun in hand and eyes alert as he crossed the street, heading directly towards the building. Eames couldn't help the frantic beating of his heart at the mere sight of the confident point-man. So sure, so dashing, so dangerous, so bloody sexy… And so very wet. His leather brown leather jacket was drenched and his hair soaked through.

Eames moved quickly to the rear entrance, planning to intercept Arthur before he tried to find another way in. He opened the steel door with a hard pull of the hinges. It took an effort. The building was old and the door probably hadn't been used often. The screeching of the door alerted Arthur. Eames stood in the door way and smiled amusingly at him as he stood on the street, getting soaked.

"Darling," he said pleasantly, "how kind of you to drop by."

"Eames?" Arthur stared disbelievingly at him. "What are you doing here?"

"I was just about to ask you the same thing." Eames pulled the door opened wider, "Now- c'mon, we haven't got all day." He said indicating to the open door. Arthur took the hint and brushed his way past Eames, his wet coat sleeve dampening Eames's suit. He slammed the door shut and locked it securely behind him, brushing off the droplets of water.

Arthur rounded on him, "Seriously- Eames, why are you here?"

Water seeped from his slick black hair. Eames had the urge to run his hands through that soft, damp hair and grip it tight. He hadn't seen Arthur in months now and he hadn't been far from his mind. And seeing him now, all irritable and lethal- made him hard as a friggin rock. He couldn't explain it. All he knew was that he wanted to push Arthur up against one of these dusty storage crates, and like some untamable animal, fuck him silly.

Still, he managed, barely, to contain himself as he leaned casually against a storage crate, his hand resting against the gun. "I'm here on request."

Arthur narrowed his eyes dangerously. Eames couldn't help but see the point-man as absurdly attractive when he got irritated with him. It was one of Eames's nasty yet gleeful habits to annoy Arthur. Even if their relationship had become more intimate, their regular banter was clearly unaffected.

"I'm sure the money had nothing to do with it either, Eames." Arthur countered accusingly.

Eames shrugged, unaffected by Arthur's unkind comment as he smirked, "What can I say? Money speaks to my heart." He glanced curiously at the now indignant looking point-man. "Why are _you_ here? Did Miss Marks pay a personal visit too?"

Arthur stopped pacing as a burst of flame sparked in his dark eyes. "What? No- she called me."

Eames nodded, a taunting smile crossing his lips. "Huh…" he mumbled, wondering if that spark of fire in Arthur's eyes may be a sign of jealousy. Or maybe Eames was intentionally misreading the signs.

"I'm here to get Holden out," Arthur stated bluntly. "I heard he had a forger down here with him, I didn't know it was you!"

"Would you not have bothered coming then, knowing it was me?" Eames asked in slight annoyance and curiosity.

Arthur's stoic face hardened. All emotion drained from him. Eames knew that look. The point-man had arrived, cutting off whatever emotional intrigue Eames hinted at between them. His silence felt deafening in such a large warehouse and the space between them felt cold, instead of hot and passionate like it had before.

Suddenly Eames felt the warm blood trickling down the side of his face again. He gritted his teeth and flicked a careless hand over the wound, wiping away the blood.

"Are you okay?" Arthur asked, stepping forward as though wanting to reach out and inspect the bullet graze. Eames stood there, unmoving. Arthur noticed the coldness emanating from him and pulled his hand away instantly and straightened- his face passive.

"I'm fine," Eames remarked coolly. "Though our lovely boy Holden is barely _holdin_' up," he glanced irritably over his shoulder. Holden was somewhere in the back, bleeding and hysterical. The nit-wit. "So- now that you're here, do you have any ideas on how to get us out?"

"Marks is gonna give us an early kick." He glanced down at his watch, "in two minutes."

"And that's how long my time?"

Arthur's dark eyes caught his, "Two hours."

"Bloody brilliant," Eames muttered in frustration. "I can't go back in there with that idiot for two more hours." He walked towards the broken window, refusing to play nurse any longer. He had two hours to survive in this hell hole. And he wouldn't die for that man. "I'll keep watch. You deal with him." He said dismissively.

"Fine," Arthur replied angrily as he headed to the backroom where the bleeding man lay.

Eames desperately hoped that this would be the easiest two hours of his life. But he knew- whenever in a dream, danger was around every corner.

* * *

><p>Arthur spoke with Holden the first few minutes, after that, listening to him plead and moan was getting on his nerves. Still, he stayed. He told himself it had nothing to do with the fact that Eames was in the other room. Eames. He saw him with perfect clarity in his mind. His rough, chiseled face that was sinfully handsome. God how he missed that constantly amused smile that danced on those supple lips.<p>

He dreamt about him so many times and seeing him now… still beautiful and cocky, no matter where he was, made his heart race. Eames's suit and jacket were immaculate as always, even if he seemed slightly rumpled and blood dripped onto his collar. When Arthur had seen that Eames was injured, his heart plummeted. He instinctively wanted to help him, touch him, anything… But retracted his hand after his momentary lapse of thought as Eames's cold eyes burned into him.

He couldn't blame Eames for being distant with him. After all, he'd been the one to run off the moment they slept together. Arthur had ruined whatever intimacy they shared and then took a job half-way across the world. He sighed, rubbing his hand over his face, wishing he had the courage to say more. Like- 'I missed you, you cocky, selfish asshole…' But he couldn't. Not to Eames. Arthur had some shred of pride left in him.

An hour went by before something happened. The dream world had been blissfully quiet for them and Arthur even believed during that time they would get out, without ever having to face a moment of battle. But he'd been wrong.

A gun went off and then all around the building exploded with gunfire. Arthur got to his feet and pulled the limp body of Holden into a broom closet. The man howled in protest but Arthur saw no other option. He had to stay hidden because they couldn't move him.

He pushed several crates in front of the door, hiding the blood trail and the door behind. He pulled out his gun and headed back to where he'd left Eames.

He jogged inside the back of the building and saw Eames fire off a round into the street. Arthur ran towards him, gun out and ready.

"They found us?" Arthur asked, pressing his back into the wall behind Eames.

Eames chuckled, "Yeah- a few. I counted five." He fired one shot, "Correction- four." He pulled away from the window and reloaded, with a hint of a smile on those lips. He glanced over his shoulder to Arthur, "It's just a matter of time before this place is swarming with projections."

"We can't leave Holden," Arthur said suddenly, aware that Eames might do just that to avoid falling into limbo should they get shot in the next… Arthur glanced at his watch, 42 minutes.

"I know," He replied with an air of annoyance, "it would just make everything easier if we did." He said with a dramatic eye roll as he poked his gun back outside the window and fired off a few more rounds. Arthur spied the black panel truck parked in the garage of the warehouse. He glanced at the entrance, which was sealed with a steal door. He saw the chains that kept it tethered. He would unhook those chains, drive the truck and led the projections on a chase after him. A distraction. It would give Eames time to hide and protect Holden while Arthur drove around town, hoping his luck didn't run out before his time did.

He touched the thickness of Eames's arm and pulled him away from the window. Eames glanced at him, annoyed but his face was intent to listen to him.

"I'll take the truck- drive out of here and take the projections with me," he explained quickly. He knew the plan was good and at this point, the only one.

Eames's eyes darkened as he replied coolly, "I don't think so."

Arthur saw the defiance in his face, but knew this was their only option. It would save them from being trapped inside and shot like fish in a barrel. "Eames- you know this is a good idea. I can draw them away- it'll give us some time…"

He saw the muscle flex in Eames's mouth as he suddenly rounded on him, pushing him roughly against the hard brick wall with his strong hand.

"I don't like the idea of you being chased by an army of projections, Arthur." He said sharply in that British tone, making him sound more severe. "The answer is no."

Arthur saw the intensity sparkle in Eames's eyes, and knew that there was no room for a retort in his uncompromising statement. Except Arthur never did follow orders very well.

"Too bad," Arthur shoved his hand away and headed towards the truck. "I'm going."

Eames suddenly grabbed his wrist and pulled him back. But before anything happened, gunfire echoed around them. Eames and Arthur took cover, rushing back to the wall and ducking from the sparks of bullets hailing around them. Heart racing now, Arthur was more determined to get to that truck and peel out of here and run over some projections on the way out.

Eames seemed to have read his mind as he said, "You're not leaving, Arthur."

"I don't care what you say Eames, I'm going…"

"With your luck you'll get yourself shot before the kick and end up in limbo," he snapped angrily now, his emotions finally reaching the surface of his usually controlled demeanor. "Do you really expect me to go chasing after you in hell?"

Arthur snorted in disbelief, "I didn't know you cared that much."

Eames's face contorted angrily as he pursed his lips tightly.

Arthur waited for a snarky comeback, but when it didn't, he knew he'd said too much. "Look- Eames, I'll be fine." He said reassuringly, "I've been in worse situations. We both have. Trust me, I'm not leaving this dream for another 40 minutes. Okay?" He said feeling as confident as he sounded. He knew they both had been in tight spots before, projections bearing down on them, or being discovered too soon by the mark. Either way- they were professionals and danger was their specialty.

Suddenly, he watched in awe as the forger's control finally snapped as he shoved Arthur roughly into the wall and pinned him there with his thick, muscled body. Arthur shuddered, seeing the anger and feeling the power of the man before him. Eames was dangerous when he wanted to be. And in this moment, Arthur felt every inch of that threat pressing into him, holding him against the wall like some caged bird trying to take flight.

Eames's husky voice became low and harsh as he whispered, "If I wake up before you do…" he hesitated, his eyes filling with emotion as his hand gripped into the collar of his leather jacket. "I'll come back in here and kill you."

Arthur's stomach clenched as he reached between them and captured the side of Eames's whiskered face, pulling him close. "Don't worry, _darling_." He mocked coyly, "I'll wake up when you do."

Eames growled roughly and captured his mouth with open hostility and passion. Arthur welcomed it. He opened his mouth for the hot tongue that speared its way inside. He clutched weakly and fiercely to the forger, wanting to be close to him in every way possible and kissing was not enough for either of them. Eames's lips devoured him, over and over until they were panting with raw, unshakable desire. He felt the hard tension building between his thighs, beginning to overwhelm him.

Arthur's heart twisted painfully as Eames pulled him close, hugging him, kissing his neck. The intimacy felt so tender and emotional that Arthur was immobile to it. All he could do was give himself, let the forger take what he wanted, what he needed.

Suddenly gunfire erupted around them again, startling them both. "Go, before I change my mind," Eames said hoarsely, rubbing his fingers over his face, touching his lips and kissing him one last time. Arthur barely managed to wrench himself away before Eames whispered, "be careful, love."

Arthur's heart fluttered and his steps instantly quickened as he raced to the truck. Love…_love_… Arthur repeated the endearing sentiment over in his mind. But it was too intimate, too emotional, too much to think about when he was about to drive into the lion's den. He yanked down the chains, letting the door fling itself loose. Arthur took a deep, stabilizing breath as he jumped into the passenger seat of the truck. It was time for the point-man to take control now. He couldn't think about Eames, he couldn't think about how much he wanted to stay and fight alongside him, to kiss him one last time…

The engine rumbled to life and the light from the street flickered across his face. Rain pelted the sidewalks and he saw two darkly dressed projections running towards him, guns in hand. Time to live. Arthur gunned the pedal and sped off, leading the projections away from the warehouse, away from Eames.

**_TBC_**


	5. Ch 5: The SetUp

**Chapter 5: The Set-Up**

Music had synchronized the kick. He heard the whisper of it floating through his ears. The warehouse faded and blurred. The music grew louder, drowning out the noise of rain pelting the rooftop. Finally he awoke, three dream levels out, in the massage parlor. The smell of burning incense and wax candles hung in the air. He recognized the smell. Instinctively, before he even opened his eyes, he reached into his suit-pant pocket and touched the poker chip. He thumbed the groves, palmed the weight and knew… he wasn't dreaming anymore.

His dark eyes fluttered open and he shook off the remnants of sleep. His heart beat rapidly in his chest, still drumming from the effect of the kick on his system. Slightly disoriented, Eames absently pulled out the needle from his wrist that was connected to the dream machine and tossed it to the floor. He sat up from his massage chair and wavered. How bloody long had he been stuck in that god awful dream? He glanced at his expensive watch that dangled on his wrist. It was a little past four. He had gone in with Holden's team sometime this morning. Not too long, but long enough to make him feel nauseas.

He slowly got to his feet and saw the bamboo screen door that separated him from Holden and Mr. Haber. He yanked it back. Holden was beginning to wake, his face covered in sweat and his body sprawled out in the massage chair. He glanced across to where Mr. Haber was. He was on a massage table, with a towel covering the lower half of his naked body, still unconscious. This is where they planned on getting him for the initial job.

Mr. Haber got a massage here every Monday morning like clockwork. It was easy enough to pay off the ladies that usually serviced him as they mickeyed him with a glass of water. He was out like a light. That's when the team descended. Marks, Holden, Thompson, and Leroy. Except Thompson and Leroy had spilt the instant the subconscious security had erupted in the dream. They had only reached the first level and those two idiots let fear get the best of them as they shot each other, before the dream got too rough. The risk of falling into limbo was higher if they descended further down. And those cowards didn't like that rabbit hole much. He glanced at the empty two chairs across from him. Looks like those boys had some seriously small balls, he thought drily.

Eames ended up sticking it out with Marks and Holden. Then Marks got shot by the security and ended up leaving them by force. Eames was ready to blow out of the dream too, except Holden wasn't. Eames glared angrily now at the young knucklehead. His golden blond hair was slicked with sweat, his youthful face was handsome which made his charm all the more deceptive when he conned. But this team leader was no Cobb. He risked Eames life for a paycheck. And then Arthur got added in on the equation. Risking his life too.

Eames felt the overwhelming urge to smother the manipulative man before he fully regained consciousness. "Dumb fuck," he muttered instead as he noted the second bamboo screen past Holden's chair. He pushed his way through, not bothering to check on Holden, and yanked it back.

Arthur was lying on a massage table, his head resting on a bright red satin pillow and his eyes still firmly closed. Fear gripped Eames so tightly, he thought he might crumble right there.

He rushed to his side, his fingers mindlessly running through his thick black hair and trailing over his handsome, smooth face. Eames took a deep breath, trying to calm his growing panic. "Arthur, darling…" he whispered huskily.

Suddenly Arthur stirred, his eyelids pulling tightly together before snapping open. Arthur was awake. He survived. He hadn't fallen into limbo. Blindingly, overwhelming relief filled Eames then. He let out the pent up breath that he'd been holding as he grabbed the back of Arthur's neck and pulled him upright. He felt the point-man tremble in his hold. Before Arthur had time to readjust or think, Eames wrapped his hand into the lapels of his suit vest and pulled him in for a scorching, passionate kiss.

Arthur moaned instantly as he frantically pushed himself into the kiss, opening his mouth, seeking the same fulfillment. It didn't take long for Arthur to revive, Eames thought with amusement. Arthur's hands were everywhere, running through Eames's short brown hair, squeezing the muscles on the back of his neck, gripping his shoulders, stroking his chest. Eames's thought he might die from the seriously painful arousal that enthralled him. Arthur was all over him like a vein, wrapping around him, sucking him dry. Sucking… Eames's pants tightened even more at the thought as he dipped his lips into the point-man's tender flesh of his neck and sucked hard, biting even. Arthur sighed, and reached between Eames's thighs and stroked his erection, palming him roughly. Eames's sucked harder, his need growing into an untamable peek that was sending him spinning towards the edge.

"My darling…" he whispered gruffly, letting his whiskered cheek burn over Arthur's jaw as he kissed him.

Arthur's eyes flashed brightly at him, "You called me something else in the dream…" he said breathlessly.

Eames tightened his hold around the smaller built man who he trapped on the table. His gut clenched unnervingly. He knew what he'd said in the dream. And he didn't realize he'd meant it until the words came out. My love. Yes, he loved him. He couldn't explain it. Didn't have the slightest idea how it happened in all the chaos of the dream world and the real world. All he knew was that the last three months had been a torturous hell without him. After having a passionate night in the arms of Arthur, he didn't want anyone else or need anyone else. He'd tasted heaven. No matter how brief, it affected him with the same potency as their kisses now.

He locked his gaze with Arthur's. Their lips inches away, breath mingling as he finally answered, "yes I did…" he smiled coyly, seeing the hungry desire etched on Arthur's obscenely attractive face. "I can't recall the exact words…" he teased.

Arthur cocked an unimpressed eyebrow. "Really?"

Eames pretended to think deeply then said, "not a clue."

Arthur growled and suddenly Eames felt a squeezing around his cock. Arthur's grip was so hard and firm that Eames's nearly came right there. One look. One good pull and it would be over for him. He would cum in his pants like some overzealous school boy unable to control himself. Yet he never could when it involved Arthur. His point-man. His love.

Eames's let out a strangled gasp as Arthur then tugged wildly at his thickening arousal.

"Oh dear god," he whimpered out, as the hand was now beating him off with such insistency, the building to climax was demanding release.

"Not quite…" Arthur replied with amusement echoing in his voice now. Eames shot him a hard look and noticed the faint smile lining the point-man's lips. "Keep trying, Mr. Eames…"

The pace was hard and fast and unstoppable. He arched forward into his palm instinctively and bit down on his lower lip, ready to cum magnificently. "Love…" He panted out frantically, "love. I called you my love," he gushed right then. Arthur held him close as Eames reached heaven and warmth spread around his groin and seeped down his pant leg. He didn't even care that he ruined a perfectly good suit.

Arthur let Eames clutch him close, wrapping his muscled arms around him.

After a moment, Arthur tenderly kissed the underside of his jaw. "Eames…" he began in a deep voice. Suddenly they heard the clacking of high heels hitting floor as Justine Marks strolled in. Her curly brown hair was pinned back and her black dress was more formal than sexy. She eyed them curiously then arched a finely shaped eyebrow. Eames untangled himself from Arthur, his heart racing like a stallion. Damn, he knew Arthur was on the verge of emotion there. And she just had to spoil it, he thought irritably.

Eames straightened and smiled coolly at her, "Well, my dear it seems we've beaten the odds on that little job."

Marks smiled thinly, "Yes, indeed." She surveyed Arthur and watched him under scrutinizing eyes as he slid off the table and regained his formidable point-man composure.

"I see you two are acquainted," Marks stated rather than asked.

"Yes, indeed," Eames replied mockingly. "I think a congratulations are in order."

He suddenly noticed how unresponsive Marks was. Her spine ridged, her stance stiff, her face unmoving. There was something in Marks's airs that he suddenly didn't trust. Eames prided himself on reading people and their tale-tell signs. Lying was his expertise, his skill. And at the moment, Justine Marks seemed suspicious. Her expression too cool, almost contemptuous. But he just couldn't figure out what she was hiding. The job was completed, everyone came back alive…

Suddenly Marks pulled out a gun from behind the bamboo screen door. Eames stilled, he heard Arthur's quick intake of breath in shock.

"Congratulations on surviving Eames. I had hoped you'd fall into limbo- the both of you. I didn't expect you to be that good, Arthur." Marks said in a tone of mild surprise.

Eames knew that if he were to glance over his shoulder to the point-man, he would see the daggers of anger burning in those dark eyes.

"So what now, Marks? Shoot us where we stand?" Arthur asked coldly.

"Not quite so dramatic, Arthur," Marks said with a taunting smile curly on her lips.

Just then the screen door slid back and Mr. Haber stood besides her. He grazed a hand through his slick dark hair, as though making sure a strand wasn't out of place, as he then straightened the sleeves on his pin-striped suit jacket. He smiled blandly at them then. "Gentlemen, so good to see you. Sorry to foil your plans in the dream, but you know how it is. Secrets are a terrible trouble and one must protect them, no matter the cost."

His eyes moved slowly Eames then, his smile fading, as his eyes darkened into violence. Eames had seen that look before, countless times. Being in the business of danger, one did make enemies. Yet this one… Eames hesitated, racking his brain, trying to remember. Suddenly he realized with a horrified clarity what was happening and who this man was.

He was a former mark. Mr. Andrew Haber had been one of Eames's first jobs. It would've ended in shambles had it not been for pure, dumb luck. He hadn't remembered him from before because Eames had pulled so many jobs since then. Eames had stolen a few secrets out of that mind and it paid dividends when he awoke, pockets full of cash before he could sell them. Mr. Haber was a wealthy business man with more money than God and more enemies than Satan. And those enemies had wanted blood. Instead they got his nasty little secrets and paid gladly for them. Eames never followed the news on what had happened to Mr. Haber, but from their current situation, it didn't turn out well.

Now it appeared, Eames's luck had run out. And Haber had finally caught up with him.

"Aw- yes, the business man. I remember you, Mr. Haber… or at least I remember the amount I stole from you. It ended up being more profitable than I ever imagined. Thanks," Eames remarked casually, as though there wasn't a gun directly aimed at his chest.

Anger flared in Haber's eyes. "Careful, Eames. You don't want to end up like Holden."

Eames clenched his jaw as he glanced over to the screen door that still separated them from the conman. He pulled it back and saw Holden, dead on the chair, his mouth slacked open and his eyes wide.

"He went quietly," Haber said unsympathetically, his smile now just as cruel and deadly as the man before him. "But then again, how would you know? You were too busy with your tongue down his throat to notice."

Eames nearly catapulted off the ground in pure rage. Arthur grabbed his arm and pulled him back, "Eames- don't…" he whispered warningly, and holding onto him with surprising strength.

"Listen to your boy there, Eames."

His nostrils flared, his heart pounded in his chest and every muscle in his body was tensed for a fight. He wanted to smash that pretty face in with his fists. How dare he insult Arthur. Eames would make sure he paid for that, the bloody arrogant bastard.

"Aw, well- now this has been fun, Mr. Eames. But I'm surprisingly tired from all that running round in my head." He glanced at the gun in Marks's hand and gave her a slight nod, "take care of him." Before either of them had time to react, Marks fired at Eames's heart.

_**TBC**_


	6. Ch 6: Love's Bullet of Truth

****Sorry for the long wait. But hopefully all will be forgiven after with this chapter! Enjoy! ^_^**

**Chapter 6: Love's Bullet of Truth**

It all happened so fast. Arthur was standing next to Eames one minute, and then holding his gun in his hand the next. When Marks fired, Arthur moved before Eames had a chance to. With a hard shove into his shoulder, he sent Eames's sprawling to the ground as Arthur pulled out the gun tucked behind his suit pants and fired off a round in Marks's direction. He heard the solid impact of the bullets around him as he ducked and rolled onto the ground. Wood splintered behind him, lights shattered and the room went into utter chaos.

Then he heard a loud thump. The distinctive sound of a body slumping to the floor. His eyes shot to the sight of Justine Marks. Her beautiful face contorted in pain as he saw the gaping hole in the center of her chest. He killed her. A pool of blood seeped from beneath her.

His gun still vibrated in his hand. His breath came out hard and fast. He heard two quick footsteps then and saw Haber reappear, as he sneered in furious rage at the sight of Marks dead. Pulling out his own gun, he began firing blindingly into the room. Arthur was quicker though, expert marksman and honed reflexes. Arthur fired a single deadly shot. The bullet blast echoed in the room. Haber's eyes went wide with shock, the gun in his hand slackening in his grip.

Haber slumped to the floor ungraciously, gasping out his final breath before joining Marks's similar fate of demise. Arthur's heart hammered in his chest as he got to his feet. His ears rung. Suddenly he heard something that was universal in any language, fear. Loud, terrified female screams erupted around him as massage patrons and workers went fleeing out of their rooms and parlor, their echoing shouts of fright following them.

He glanced over to Eames, realizing they had to make a quick escape before one of those hysterical females calmed down long enough to call the cops. But when his eyes locked onto Eames, his heart stilled painfully. Arthur dropped like a stone next to Eames's unmoving body.

Oh God, Arthur thought, horrified. He hadn't been fast enough. He should have seen it coming. Why hadn't he seen it sooner? He hadn't been able to save him… Eames was dead just like the others… No… no…

Fear choked him as he turned Eames's body over, blood seeping beneath him. Sudden relief hit him as he saw Eames's face twisted in pain but still alive.

"Eames!" Arthur breathed out, barely holding himself together.

"Bloody'ell," Eames grumbled, holding a hand over the side of his stomach. "The bitch shot me," he muttered in disbelief.

Arthur nearly laughed, on the verge of hysteria. Eames was fine, at least for the moment. "We have to get out of here," he said insistently to him. "The police will be here soon, can you stand?"

Eames's eyes focused on him then, realization dawning as he nodded, "Yeah… sounds like the party's over anyway."

* * *

><p>Arthur had rolled up his sleeves while he cooked pasta and cut up veggies to toss in once it finished marinating. He thought about the cut of the chicken, the steam from the boiling pot of pasta, the colors of the fresh vegetables… anything but Eames.<p>

He tried to focus on dinner, not on the man who was asleep upstairs, recovering from a bullet wound he received earlier that day. So much had happened that Arthur himself was surprised he was still standing. He should be passed out on the couch, off in dreamland too. But he was anxious and wired. So he decided to cook. It usually took his mind off of things. Yet, as he washed his hands briefly under the water in the sink, he couldn't help but imagine the blood that had stained his hands only a few hours before.

Eames could have died today. And it would have been Arthur's fault. He should have known about Marks. Listened to his instinct when she called him. He should've known something was wrong… something was odd about this job… But no, he'd been distracted with his own mixed up emotions that her betrayal had come as a shock. Then Marks shot Eames.

Arthur's hands stilled on the knife, thinking of that moment again. God, it could've been so much worse, he thought agonizingly. What if he lost him today? What if he never had the chance to tell him the truth? That he loved him too. And maybe, he always had. Maybe that was why he resisted so hard in the beginning, denying Eames before he ever had a chance. But now it was too late. Arthur was sure that he had lost his heart to that irritating Forger.

Arthur realized then that he still hadn't told Eames anything. He was too busy playing nurse when he got him back to his place that cleaning the wound and stitching it up had been his focus. Now, Eames slept upstairs in his bed, resting after the painful ordeal.

Suddenly he heard a groggy, yet sinfully delicious voice sound gruffly behind him, "dear God it smells amazing in here. A boy can't sleep with this floating about in the air."

Arthur turned to see Eames, strolling into the kitchen looking haphazardly wrecked but in a very appealing way. His hair was mussed, his beige slacks wrinkled, his white suit shirt opened with a tank top underneath… and then the blood. Arthur's throat clenched. He saw the trail of blood that traced his white shirt. The contrast was too bright for him.

"You should be resting," he replied tightly, knowing Eames shouldn't be walking up and down stairs but in his bed, sleeping.

"Yes, yes, mother. But right now, I'll I could think about was food."

"How are you feeling?"

Eames eyed the bowl of simmering pasta, "hungry."

When Arthur just stared back disapproving, Eames chuckled, throwing his hands up in a helpless gesture. "Aw- come off it, love. It was only a flesh wound. And it's partly your fault I'm down here in the first place. It smells sinfully good."

Arthur felt his heart soften. There was that word again. That small little sentiment slipped into his words like it was nothing yet everything at the same time. No one had ever told Arthur that they loved him. He never had that connection with another soul. People like Cobb or Marks, would come in and out of his life. He was always connected to people but never at this level, never involving real emotions. Never love.

"So what are you conjuring up for us tonight, Arthur?"

A smile tugged at his lips as he tossed the veggies into the bowl. "Let me get you a shirt that's clean- at least before we eat."

Eames eyed his shirt then, "do you have anything that would fit me?"

"I might," he replied.

A few minutes later Eames wore a casual throwback shirt that was a few sizes too big. It was form fitting on Eames yet he made it look very nice, especially since Eames seemed to never wear black. He was more into the colors with his choices in clothes.

They ate their dinner reasonably fast since both were famished and couldn't recall the last time they had a proper meal. Arthur cleaned up when they finished and poured them a glass of red wine as dessert.

Eames sighed heavily, thankfully taking the glass as he relaxed into Arthur's plush couch. The same one they had made love on for the first and last time. Arthur couldn't help but think of this fact as he sat across from the man now.

He wanted to burn the couch the moment Eames walked out of his life. He wanted to torch it and watch it smolder like his feelings he had for Eames. A constant, ridiculous torch. It wasn't until he saw him again in that dream that Arthur realized the truth. He was in love with him.

He fell a little in love with him the first time they met, all those years ago on the job they pulled with Cobb. Then a little more when Eames walked into the workroom for the first time on the Inception job, becoming a new addition to the team. And finally when they made love in his apartment. Arthur knew it then, felt it in his gut but ignored it. He thought he was just being romantic and over-idealistic especially after having such incredible sex. But it wasn't until they spent months apart from each other, uncertain and confused, and then abruptly seeing Eames again in that warehouse, it all came flooding back like a tidal wave.

The truth felt like an unstoppable bullet and there was no way of rolling out of this one unscathed.

"What's on that brilliant little mind of yours, darling? Taking from that quizzical brow of yours, I don't think it's very pleasing."

"It's not. Not really," Arthur replied honestly.

Eames frowned at this. "Well, do tell. It's always good to rid yourself of these sort of things. So come on, spill."

Arthur stared at him curiously, "I was thinking of the first time we met."

Eames smiled then hummed a little, "Aw- so many years ago… You were such a dork back then."

Arthur arched an eyebrow. "No I wasn't."

"Yes, you were. Thank God for the ridiculous amount of money we got pulling off that job because fortunately for you, you did the smart thing and ran to the nearest Armani store. I swear, if I had to look anymore at one of your knockoff bought ties, I was going to buy you ones myself."

"Yeah, like you could have afforded it back then." Arthur retorted.

Eames chuckled, "Touché, darling. You're right. I had been spending far too much of my off time playing and not enough time working." His dark brown eyes sharpened onto him then, "unlike you."

"What do you mean?"

"Please… you know perfectly well what I mean. You were practically glued to the hip with Cobb and still would be if he hadn't left."

Arthur sat back into the couch, a smug smile pulling at his lips. "Do I detect a hint of jealousy in your voice Mr. Eames?" he asked, teasingly.

Eames tensed, his eyebrow furrowing and lips pursing. This made Arthur laugh, which seemed to spur on Eames. "I don't get jealous, darling." He replied coldly.

"Okay, then I'll go call Cobb, see if he's doing anything…"

Eames's jaw clenched down tightly. "Careful, Arthur. Playing with fire might sound like fun at first, but we all know what happens in the end. Don't we?"

Arthur's smile softened. Obviously this was a touchy subject for Eames and pushing him now, might prove… stimulating.

"I'm not too sure anymore, Eames. After all, you're the one who likes to take risks more than anyone else I know. Maybe you're recklessness has rubbed off on me."

"I sincerely doubt that." Eames said dully. "You're problem is that you wouldn't risk something unless it was absolutely necessary."

"Are you calling me a coward?" Arthur asked suspiciously, his temper beginning to flare.

Eames shrugged his massive shoulders before slowly leaning back, sipping on his wine. "I'm simply saying you like playing it safe. And there's no shame in that."

Arthur felt insulted, yet his words struck hard at the bone. It was true. Arthur played it safe yet it was because he knew the consequences of failure when it came to the dream world. But right now, they weren't talking about dreaming. They were talking about something else far more dangerous.

"I took a chance on you," Arthur said softly, his gaze locking with the Forger.

"I don't know if you really did, Arthur. I think it was me who seduced you, if I remember correctly."

"Okay, fine. You seduced me. You pursued me. Whatever. What do you want from me now?" Arthur asked irritably.

Eames sat forward then, eyes intent. "Do you have feelings for Cobb?"

Arthur wasn't expecting that. He almost laughed. Instead he shook his head dumbly. "No, never. We just worked together and made a good team."

A curious moment of relief crossed Eames handsome face.

"I'd say the same thing about us too." Arthur said truthfully. "How we worked together on the inception job. Which I will admit now, you did a good job."

"Oh, why thank you darling for your condescension. It's always appreciated."Eames said drily.

"It's not…" Arthur began but stopped when he saw Eames's arrogant smile.

"And now this? Us being together…?" Arthur asked. His heart in his throat and his nerves making him feel anxious and suddenly very insecure under the Forger's scrutinizing gaze. He was afraid to be the first one to bring up this subject, but he needed this to be clear in his mind. He needed to hear what Eames thought and what he wanted from him. "We're what? Lovers?"

Eames's cocky smile hesitated, "what else do you want? A ring?"

Arthur shot back in alarm, "_No_."

"Don't get too excited."

Arthur abruptly laughed, "Sorry. It's not what I meant. It's just that I guess I don't know where we're at now."

Eames's eyes grew heavy as he smiled lazily at him. "I think I have an idea," he drawled out as he slowly got to his feet and approached Arthur.

He recognized the lust deep within those dark, hypnotic eyes. Arthur felt his heart begin to race. Eames's gaze so intent and so determined in seduction that it startled Arthur. Eames was confident in nearly all aspects of his life and evidence of this was in his mannerisms, swagger and knowing smile. That slow grin that spread from his lips to warm his beautiful eyes.

Arthur felt the wind suddenly escape his lungs as he stared up into the Forger's handsome chiseled features.

"You want to fill me in on your idea?" Arthur asked tentatively.

Eames shrugged carelessly, "I dunno- how about a little foreplay and then straight to the good stuff?"

Arthur cocked his head to the side, his nervous energy falling away, at least for the moment. "You certainly leave an impression Eames, but I'm going to need a little more specificity before we take this any further."

"Specificity?"

"Yes…"

Eames's eyes twinkled coyly. "I know, darling. You do love that word. So here's as specific as I can possibly make this for you…" He leaned over, eyes never leaving his, as he captured his mouth with a piercingly hot kiss.

It didn't take much to get Arthur hard after that incredible kiss. He was off the couch in seconds, arms wrapped around the Forger, leaving his insecurities and doubts behind. "We should set some ground rules," Arthur muttered, lips frantically pressing into his, wet and hard.

"First rule- undress as quickly as possible," Eames breathed out, hands trailing up and down his body with possessive need that sent shivers coursing down Arthur's back. He was already unclipping his pants for him in his mind, thinking of Eames reaching down into his pants and grabbing a hand full of his throbbing erection…

Eames made him so hard. It didn't matter what the man did or was about to do, Eames- was his fantasy come to life. Thick, muscularly large, sensual, brilliant, funny, sexy as hell and most of all, loving…

Eames admitted to loving him… now it was time to find out if that was true. Arthur needed to know for certain before willingly giving up his heart in return. Though Arthur already knew the truth, Eames had his heart the moment they kissed in his apartment… or maybe before that- the Inception job. It didn't matter though. Not anymore. They were together again.

"Second rule," Arthur rasped, "bedroom. Not the couch."

Eames smiled sheepishly, eyes heavy with lust, "What? I absolutely adored the way you moved on this couch last time. How sinfully delicious you felt in my arms." He licked a hot trail with his tongue down his jaw line.

Arthur sighed. "I'm serious. I want the bed this time."

Eames groaned indignantly as he reluctantly pulled away and they made their way upstairs, already breathless from their touches and now the exertion from the excitement about to come.

Eames reached the bed first, slowly peeling off his black shirt and letting it fall uselessly to the floor. Arthur saw the bandage then, covering the bullet hole. "We'll have to be careful. Maybe we should wait…"

"Arthur," Eames growled dangerously. His rippling muscles of his torso quivering as he took in quick breaths. "I'm done chasing you. I'm bloody undressing in front of you. This means I'm ready. So you better jump on board, darling, because this train will run you down if you don't comply."

Arthur heard the threat, subtle but there. And incredibly arousing. He nodded weakly, his fingers already loosening the pale colored tie before pulling it off.

"Very good," Eames said with a reassuring smile as he flipped open his belt and stepped out of his unbuttoned slacks.

Arthur swallowed, still nervously unbuttoning his shirt and unable to stop watching the roughly handsome man undress. Distracted by the show of naked flesh, Arthur didn't realize Eames walk to him until his fingers began working at the clasp to his pants. Arthur gulped in air, needing to refill his empty lungs, but instead of breathing in fresh air it was Eames's musky, utterly male scent that filled his nostrils. A wave of arousal hit him hard. He sighed, letting out a low moan as Eames's wonderfully course hands dropped Arthur's pants to the floor and then roughly palmed his aching cock through his briefs.

Arthur's wanton hips thrusted forward demandingly as Eames continued his hypnotic touches, over and over, driving the point-man wild with want. Unable to bare it any longer, Arthur reached out and touched the wonderfully chiseled chest, his fingers spread wide over the muscles and trailing down to his crotch. Eames's eyes dropped lazily, enticing Arthur to capture his mouth this time. Eames let out a hum of approval as the two men devoured each other, standing at the foot of the bed. Eames tasted sweet of wine and sin. He was delicious and his tongue was soft against his as they slid in and out of each other's mouths with torrid heat.

He felt Eames rub his towering, confined erection against his body. Arthur whimpered, wanting more than just the feel of his mouth. Without thought, without hesitation, Arthur dropped to his knees and pulled off Eames's briefs, leaving him completely naked and his beautifully throbbing erection free to him. Arthur slipped his lips over the contours of his penis, taking his manly flesh deep within his mouth. He felt Eames tremble and his cock harden in his mouth. The arousal was now just as unbearable for Arthur, knowing that he could make Eames this hard and this hot for him.

He began to slowly suck him off. Using his lips and tongue. Eames groaned loudly above him. He sucked harder, wanting more reaction from the Forger. Wanting him to be the one out of control. Grazing his teeth lightly over the flesh, he bobbed over the thick, long cock. He felt Eames's fingers run through his hair and grasp the back of his head, his hips slowly thrusting forward in small bursts. Arthur took it. He took all of him. He finally pulled back and sucked hard on the tip of his head, tonguing his slit and tasting the warm precum on his lips.

All of a sudden Eames pulled out of his mouth, gasping and yanking Arthur to his feet. Arthur licked the button of his lip in front of him as a slow smile spread across his face.

"You bloody bastard," Eames said, in awe. "Trying to make me cum before we get to the fun part?" He pulled Arthur in close and tilted his head back, sucking and kissing at his neck. Arthur let out a strangled gasp of surprise, not realizing how sensitive his neck was in that moment as he shivered in his lover's arms. He wrapped his arms around him, careful of the wound, but uncaring at the same time. If Eames was in pain he'd said something, he told himself as they fell backwards together on the bed, legs and arms tangling.

Fiercely they went at it. Both dominating and submitting. Both kissing and tasting. Arthur felt Eames's perfect lips graze over his hip bones, making his way up to suck viciously on his pert nipples. He moaned, digging his head into the pillow as his hips arched, his naked cock rubbing against Eames's body. Choppy breaths and damp skin, the smell of heady love making beginning to fill the air between them. Arthur, feeling bold and wanting to dominate the formidable Forger, used his legs and maneuvered him onto his back.

Eames's dark eyes met his, lazy and aroused. Arthur's stomach knotted excitedly as Eames's turned onto his stomach for him, the bed giving under his weight. Arthur's cock thickened at the very thought of what he was about to do. He straddled the back of Eames's legs and touched the curves of his tight ass. His arousal peeked, his cock was already wet with precum and lube he had grabbed earlier from the bedside table. Arthur lowered himself over Eames and with the guide of his hands, placed the tip of himself at the threshold. Eames's warm body was ready and willing. Arthur took in a breath, and pushed forward, thrusting himself inside. Eames let out a startled groan but the more Arthur pushed, the further he went, Eames's groan became a moaning sigh, filled with needy sexual desires.

Arthur's cock stiffened so hard as he listened to Eames's. He had yielded and it felt perfect. He slowly started out but as the moments passed, so did his patience. Arthur's arousal began to peak and he would burst in a matter of seconds. Quickening his tempo, he pounded into Eames, the bed creaking and rocking beneath them. Eames gasped into the pillow, rearing his backside up just so for Arthur to pound and thrust even deeper. The sensation was incredible and he never wanted to stop. Arthur gasped. Eames's let out a small cry and the muscles in his body tensed the second he orgasmed.

Arthur reached out and grabbed the back of Eames's hand. Their finger intertwined and with one more final, earth-shattering thrust, Arthur climaxed. Gushing hard and fast, his cock twitching and tensing until there was nothing left.

They collapsed onto the bed. Hot and heavy limbs tossed over one another.

Eames was the first one to speak, his voice gruff and heavy with exhaustion. "I must say, that was extraordinary. I think we should do that much more often."

Arthur smiled lazily. "I agree, Mr. Eames." Several minutes passed as both men slowly began to fade into dreamland. But before Arthur slipped completely he felt Eames's warm body stir besides him, still awake. He rolled his head over to the side to see him. Eames's eyes were closed and his beautiful lips were red and soft from their kisses.

"What's rule number three?" Arthur asked. "Or do we not need to get that far?"

One eye of Eames's popped opened. "You were the one wanting to set ground-rules, not me."

"Fair enough."

"Okay, I've got one for you."

Arthur rolled onto his side and faced him. "What? You want me to scrub your back when we hop into the shower?"

Eames smiled. "Not exactly, though very tempting. How bout we make that rule four."

"So what's three?"

Eames opened both of his eyes, his dark gaze soft and vulnerable. "Tell me you love me."

Arthur hesitated instinctively. But his heart fluttered and sprang to life.

"Because I love you. I didn't lie to you before when I said it." Eames said.

Arthur nodded and reached out to touch the white bandage that covered the bullet hole. He never wanted to lose Eames again and promised himself he never would.

His hand spread over Eames's chest, covering his heart. "I love you." He said simply yet truthfully. It rolled off his tongue with utter ease. He wondered why he waited so long to tell him.

Eames grinned boyishly. "I know. I just wanted to hear you say it."

Arthur chuckled and shook his head. "Why do you love taunting me?"

"Because you're so easy." Eames drawled out seductively.

Arthur cocked a cool eyebrow at this. "How about we change rule four to _you_ scrubbing _my_ back?"

"Whatever you say, love…"

Arthur broke out into a smile as Eames wrapped a thick arm around him and pulled him in for a long, drawn out kiss.

_**The End**_

* * *

><p><strong>Please comment &amp; review. Thank you for following &amp; staying with this story! Sorry for the long wait, again. Hopefully I satisfied my darling readers with this ending ^_-<strong>

**~kidneythieves **


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